


Fingertips

by evil_bunny_king



Series: Of the Sun [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Abora Lavellan, Early Game, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 04:07:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5524829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evil_bunny_king/pseuds/evil_bunny_king
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solas seems different in the relative safety of Haven. Older. Quieter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fingertips

"May I?”

Solas asks, this time. His hand extended, palm up, fingers grazing the underside her wrist - and he’s still too impatient, but at least he pauses now before he grips. There is an unfathomable expression in his eyes. The question hangs between them.

She looks at him and remembers the first time. Blood, snow, desperation - his grasp rough and shoving as magic unspooled from her palm.

He seems quite different now, in the relative safety of Haven. Older. Quieter. She doesn’t know what to make of him, this elven wanderer in shabby clothing.

The meager fire cracks in the corner of the hovel, ice sketches the panes, and his hand stretches for hers- hovers about her wrist.

She contemplates his request before she lays her hand in his, palm up to reveal the snare of the anchor.

He traces his fingers gentlt over the mark. He's careful as he plies a prickling magic to it- but then he presses a thumb against what feels like a hinge and she hisses in pain, twisting in his grip.

His expression is inscrutable. After a moment he pulls away, and then withdraws entirely, turning and gazing into the lapsing fire.

"Thank you,” he says eventually, not looking up. “I am sorry to have caused you pain. However, the mark appears to be stabilizing. With luck it will continue to do so. I would like to examine it again in a few days, if you wouldn’t mind.”

"Alright.” The words crack from her lips. She clears her throat. It’s good to talk, instead of being talked to. “Thank you for your help with it. That would be - fine. Just let me know when.”

He inclines his head, and that is that. He does not say anything more. He does not look up.

One of the only people in this place who’d talk to her as a person, and he wouldn’t even look at her.

Another moment, hesitation, and then she takes the hint and leaves. She pauses only to glance back once more, briefly, at his solitary figure, before she pushes back out into the snow.

The night is cold without the fire. Human cottages and human trappings and the mountain, too, looming all the while, too dark and too sharp to be familiar in a world of unfamiliar things. It is tiring for her, now. This constant confrontation of the alien. She’s stranded amongst ruins, adrift, perched on the edge of wilderness.

Her hand tingles when she reaches the hut. The pain is no longer so sharp - but it throbs as she twists the handle.

She shoves it in her pocket as she walks through the door.


End file.
